


put me where you want me

by Anonymous



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sub Quentin Coldwater, alice who Gets It, author ships queliot but was extremely sick of the alice hate so this happened, not proud of this but here it is now have fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:17:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Quentin,” she said again, an edge of steel in her voice this time, and ohhh that was better, that sent sparks down his spine. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes, met Alice’s own. “Quentin, what do you want?”His heart rate kicked up a notch. He could be honest with her, this was Alice, she’d never laugh at him for something like this. “I want,” he said thickly, “I want you to not ask me that question.”
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Anonymous





	put me where you want me

**Author's Note:**

> listen. several months ago when i was deep into the magicians and when people were yelling about "qualice is toxic and we hate all women who get in the way of an m/m ship" even more than usual, i read greywash's Sub Quentin Manifesto, got wine drunk at like eight pm, and this was the result. all i can say is it's my god given bisexual right to write m/f sex, and uh im not proud of it as shown by the fact that I'm posting it anonymously but [washes hands of this fic] here it is now, i guess. enjoy!

Quentin broke the kiss and just pressed his forehead to Alice’s, breathing hard, clutching at her, swaying with her slightly. 

“Quentin,” she said breathlessly. He didn’t respond, just kept his eyes closed and his body pressed against hers, willing something to happen _to_ him, not because of him. 

“Quentin,” she said again, an edge of steel in her voice this time, and ohhh that was better, that sent sparks down his spine. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes, met Alice’s own. “Quentin, what do you want?”

His heart rate kicked up a notch. He could be honest with her, this was _Alice_ , she’d never laugh at him for something like this. “I want,” he said thickly, “I want you to not ask me that question.”

She pulled back a little, the better to study his face. “What do you mean?”

Quentin squirmed and looked at the floor. _You can do this. It’s just talking_ , he told himself firmly, and took a deep breath. “I want to not be in charge. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Or put me where you want me and do what you want to me.” Fuck. He’d never been good at talking about sex, and he could feel his face burning as he stumbled over the words, still wildly looking anywhere but Alice’s eyes. But now the words had been said, and he could only hope that Alice wouldn’t run away, wouldn’t refuse. But—

“Okay,” she said. He looked up, and oh, he’d recognize that look on her face anywhere. Those two small lines between her brows, the half smile on her lips—that was the look she wore whenever she was just starting to understand how to cast something complicated, something beautiful. “I can put you where I want you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. And then she was on him, kissing him deeply with her hands on his shoulders, backing him up until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he collapsed onto it, sitting with her standing between his legs and smirking down at him. Alice Quinn, always so quick on the uptake. God but he loved her. 

“You’re gonna lay back,” she told him, smiling that devilish smile. “Do you want me to guide you or push you, or would you rather just go?”

Fuck, was she going to make him _talk about this_ more? The thought of having to tell her what he wanted made him squirm with embarrassment, but also the idea of her making him say it went straight to his cock. “Uh. Push me. Please.”

She put her hands on his shoulders again and _shoved_ , and Quentin let himself hit the bed hard. An embarrassing little noise escaped him, but Alice just laughed and let herself go with him, kneeling over him as he scrambled back on the bed. “That was good, then?” she asked, half teasing, half to check in on him. She was still in problem-solving mode, then—hypothesis, test, check results. Figuring him out, unfolding him one piece at a time. 

“God, yeah,” he said fervently. He reached up to her and she sank down, still straddling him, and let herself be pulled down into a kiss. He kissed hard, trying to tell her _thank you_ , trying to tell her _this is what I want_ , trying to tell her _now please don’t make me decide things, but actually please make me say it, because this is_ delicious. 

Alice broke the kiss. “So you like a little rough handling, I guess. What else?” 

This was too big a question. Quentin floundered. “I, uh . . .”

“Okay, we’ll start smaller,” she said briskly, taking pity on him. Her efficient, classroom manner was coming out and it should _not_ be as hot as it was, Quentin thought inanely. She slid a hand into his hair. “If I pull just a little, is that a yes or a—“

“ _Yes_.” Alice’s hand twisted into his hair and she _tugged_ , and Quentin moaned for real this time, letting himself arch back into it. She’d found his weakness _so quickly, God,_ how was she as good at this as she was at everything else? His hands scrabbled at her waist until he found her hips, pulling her down to grind against him until she made a pleased little noise. 

Alice bent to mouth at his throat, bared for her as he tipped his head back. “Do you want me to...?” she whispered and “ _Please_ ,” he answered, and she bit down where his neck met his shoulder. Stars collided. 

She sat back, and then both of them seemed to realize at once that they were both still fully clothed and in way over their heads, and as soon as Quentin met Alice’s eyes they both burst into embarrassed little giggles. 

“I’m sorry,” Quentin told her, still laughing, trying to ignore the mortification creeping in to settle in his stomach. “Is this weird? Am I making this weird?” 

“No, no, this is fun,” she said, her eyes still crinkling on a laugh, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise, we were just being so serious about this and—“ 

“We can stop, or I can just be normal about this and we can . . .” he mumbled, waving his hand vaguely, but Alice caught his hand, pinning it to the pillow beside him. Lightning raced through Quentin, chasing away the embarrassment and laughter and filling that space with need. Reflexively, he shifted his hips, and she smirked knowingly. 

“We don’t have to stop,” she said. “God, I mean of course we can stop if you want—“ But he shook his head. 

“You don’t mind . . .? I mean you don’t really seem like the type to want to . . .” Quentin trailed off. 

“I’m not,” she said seriously, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean...I don’t really care who’s in charge, or whatever, I just like figuring you out. I mean I can tell how into this you are and getting you like this is _really_ fucking hot.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, _absolutely_.” Quentin pulled experimentally at the hand pinned to the bed, enjoying the feeling of being trapped there, squirming a little with anticipation. 

“Okay.” She reached up to capture his other hand as well, pinning it over his head. She bent to kiss him, the heat building between them again. “Do you want to—no, wait, you said for me to tell you what to do, right—“ 

Her face flushed when she tried to get the words out—she wasn’t good at talking about this either, he remembered, but she was determined. God, he would do whatever she wanted for doing this for him—he’d do her Aramaic translation homework, or no, better yet, he’d eat her out for as long as she wanted and _oh_ that sounded like a good idea, but— 

“Could you—I mean.” She cleared her throat. “Let me have your fingers, Quentin.” 

Alice let go of one hand, but she kept the other one pinned with her own. Only too happy to comply, he reached down, trailing his hand up her thigh and under her skirt. 

“Wait,” she said, half breathless, laughing a little again. “Wait wait wait, let’s get some clothes off, we’re being ridiculous.” 

She rolled off of him to tug her skirt off while he scrabbled at his own waistband, fumbling out of his jeans and t-shirt. Then Alice straddled him again, letting him tug her shirt over her head, still smiling that bright, clear smile. Quentin trailed his fingers over the seam of her bra, and she shivered. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment, voice firm again as she captured his left hand over his head once more. “Do it now.” He thrilled at the command and complied, bringing his right hand down between her legs. 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Alice sighed, her whole body shivering into him. “ _Oh_ , Quentin, another finger, you’re being so good for me.” 

_So good for me_. The words sent a shock through him, and _oh_ , just when he thought he was done finding things out about himself, there went Alice, finding all the hidden little corners of his mind. She grinned. “You like that?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. 

“You’re being so good for me,” she said again. “Oh, baby, _Q,_ your fingers feel so good,” and god, _god_ , how did she know just how to get to him, he was going to come embarrassingly fast when she finally got ahold of him because just hearing her praise, hearing the soft sounds fall from her mouth as she bit her lip to stop them, feeling her rock back and forth gently on top of him, was almost too much already. 

He worked another finger into her just to hear her moan, and rubbed his palm over her clit just because she deserved it. She came with a gasp, shuddering as he worked her through it and collapsing onto his chest. 

She let go of his hand. “ _Mmm,_ Q, that was good.” 

“Uh. Thanks,” he said stupidly. Watching Alice come had been...Jesus. He was too worked up to form coherent sentences. 

She laughed into his chest. “Give me a minute and we’ll take care of you, I promise.” 

When Alice’s breathing was even again, she pushed herself up on her arms to look Quentin in the eye. “Do you want—“ 

“Just touch me,” he said wildly. She kissed him, and compiled. 

After a long moment, when his breath started to come in uneven gasps: “What else?” Alice breathed into his ear. 

“What?” 

“What else is it that you want? I know there’s something.” Her hand stilled and he _whined_ , too far gone to be embarrassed. 

“Alice, _please_ —“ 

“No,” she told him, the steely edge back in her voice. “Not until you tell me. 

His head swam. The words all came out in a rush. “If you maybe want to fuck me sometime I’d love that but only if you want... _nghhhh Alice_ \--” 

When he could breathe again she was smiling at him, and she looked so goddamn _understanding_ that all his embarrassment came back in a rush. Mortified, he buried his face in her neck and mumbled, “Alice, I’m sorry-- 

“No,” she told him seriously. “Q, don’t apologize. That was fun. I had fun. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.” And somehow, her hand in his hair eased the knot in his stomach a little, and he said, “Okay. Okay. But next time _you’re_ going to tell me the embarrassing shit you’re into,” and they held each other and laughed. 


End file.
